


fall a little faster

by babyawkwardturtles



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Magic, Awkward Flirting, Denial, Fluff, M/M, Practical Magic AU sort of, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, in which victor actually has impulse control, like five percent but that makes all the difference, pining!victor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9296699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyawkwardturtles/pseuds/babyawkwardturtles
Summary: If asked the question, "What are you most afraid of?", Victor always has the same answer: "Falling in love."Most people take that answer as confirmation of his playboy nature or his phobia for commitment. Which is not true at all.Then again, it isn't like he can casually say, "A curse will kill me and my lover if I do" like it's no big deal.--Victor has a curse so he sets an impossible set of expectations for his true love to make sure he never falls in love.Then, he meets Yuuri Katsuki and somehow, the impossible doesn't seem too impossible anymore.





	

**Author's Note:**

> You don't need to know Practical Magic to understand this fic.

Victor is nine when the curse comes for his mother too. 

Even though he knew— _she knew_ —it was inevitable, the sight of her suddenly collapsing on the kitchen floor in mid conversation is so surprising and unexpected that Victor instinctively thinks she’s playing a joke on him.

It’s the seconds after when he realizes that she is not getting up that terror sets in and he screams when he doesn’t hear her heartbeat and the world has suddenly become too loud.

He scrambles to his feet and grabs his mother’s notebooks from the table, _praying_ for a solution. He flips through the pages with trembling fingers, looking for a spell, a concoction— _anything_ —but he can’t see the words. They’re getting blurry and he knows that the longer he waits, the farther his mother is. He knows deep down that his mother is already gone and there’s nothing he can do about it but he doesn’t want to believe and he wants to try anyway.

He screams then kicks then vomits when he’s pulled away from his mother by the police, summoned by a concerned neighbor who heard screaming next door.

A week and a short funeral later, Victor finds that he is too tired to continue crying and his cheeks become dry. He emptily accepts people’s condolences and resists biting his lip when they say, “what a pity it was for her to suffer a heart attack so young.” 

He knows the truth after witnessing it happen once, now twice. The curse left him alone and he’ll be damned if he lets it come again a third time.

He clutches his chest—his heart—like a promise. His mother’s blood roars in his veins like a warning.

_I will never fall in love._

He silently repeats the words like a prayer, trying to steel his already wavering heart.

\--

At the tender age of fifteen, Victor figures he is doing pretty well for himself. Obtaining a few gold medals in the European championships along with a line of promising sponsorships, breaking a record of being the youngest to win the gold at the Junior Worlds Championship, and well on his way to becoming the number one skater in men’s singles in the world.

He’s at the top of his game and he and the world knows it.

He bats his eyelashes and the world swoons.

Victor knows how pretty he is and he also knows how pretty _other people_ find him.

Yet, when he feels his heart first flutter as he inadvertently makes eye contact with that pretty skater who smiles bashfully back at practice, the implications of the family curse suddenly weighs upon his shoulders.

He waits for Yakov to fall soundly asleep before slipping out of his bed that night. He quickly shushes Makkachin with a dog treat and goes to his desk. He opens one of his mother’s notebooks, flipping to a certain page— _Amas Veritas_. He reads his mother’s hopeful cursive—once, twice—and takes out a piece of paper and pen.

Victor taps his pen against his lips thoughtfully, mulling over the instructions. If this works, he never has to worry about the curse again. It takes him another hour to write out his spell, crossing out words and writing others. His heart thumps loudly in his chest when he finishes. He then takes a bowl he snuck out from the kitchen and reaches over to take a rose from one of his victory bouquets sitting on his dresser; this will have to do.

He folds over the plastic covering and twists the stem gently in his hands, careful to avoid the thorns. He thumbs one of its blue petals gently and offers a silent apology to his mother for using her spell this way.

_I will fall in love with someone who is…_

“Sweet and warm to the core,” Victor starts, plucking a petal and placing it into the bowl. He plucks another. “Yet, cold and distant like ice.”

Makkachin softly whines, nudging his nose into his leg. Victor chuckles and tosses in another petal. “Their favorite animal is a poodle.”

“They’re so talented and wonderful that the world can see it,” Victor says with another piece of blue but adds cruelly, almost wistfully, “…except themselves.” 

“Their eyes are brown,” He says and adds another, absentmindedly gazing at his puppy’s coffee-colored fur. He freezes. “No, orange.” Then, for extra good measure, he adds another petal. “And red.”

Makkachin snorts, as if to ask, _“Does a person like that even exist?”_

Victor scratches behind his ears with a serene smile. “They don’t.”

He sets down the rose stem and pauses in thought before plucking a long strand of his own hair. He ties a knot at the base of the strand and murmurs, “And they will understand me when no one else does.”

_If this person truly does understand me, then they will understand why we can’t be together._

He presses the knot to his lips for a moment and adds it to the bowl with finality. 

With the bowl cradled against his side, Victor opens his windowsill. He flinches at the rush of winter air curling through his hair. Letting his magic thrum through his chest, he closes his eyes and tilts his bowl, letting the wind catch and carry his spell away.

\--

Victor plasters on a charming smile as another prospective sponsor congratulates him on his fifth consecutive medal. He prepares himself for a long night of gracefully accepting their compliments and tactfully refraining from confirming or denying their speculations about his motivation behind his free skate.

Clinch a couple of sponsorships, quell some rumors, and stir up new gossip. 

Rinse, lather, and repeat.

He doesn’t prepare himself for Yuri to be taunted and crushed in a dance battle with a very drunk Yuuri Katsuki.

Victor is even less prepared when Yuuri challenges him as well, truly a complete 180 from the shy, anxious man he had unintentionally snubbed yesterday night. A mysterious tug blooms in his chest when Yuuri smirks at him and takes his hands. There is a feeling of giddiness in his stomach as he follows the urge and Yuuri’s lead onto the middle of the banquet floor. Their impromptu duet ushers in scandalized gasps and snickers but he can’t bring himself care. Yuuri is playful, sensual, beautiful, and so, so… _alive_. Victor finds himself laughing harder and freer than he has in years and when Yuuri dips him with an earnest smile, _the world slows_ and Victor momentarily forgets how to breathe and can only smile back.

Even after Yuuri replaces him with Chris as a dance partner, that feeling of giddiness and wonder never wanes. Instead, it intensifies and curls _hotly_ in his stomach when he watches Yuuri’s muscles dance and flex around the pole with such passion and intensity that he has to put his phone down to just drink in the sights in awe.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling and Victor is _drowning_.

Yuri mocks the way Yuuri drunkenly stumbles and bumps into the other attendees as he looks for his clothes but Victor ignores his remarks and approaches the man with his shirt in tow. He helps Yuuri put his shirt back on and stands awkwardly when the younger man suddenly hugs him tightly and starts clumsily grinding on him while speaking a flurry of slurred Japanese. 

While Victor doesn’t understand anything of what he’s saying, he finds himself unable to tear his gaze off of him. Yuuri’s face is a flushed and sweaty mess and on his head is a tie that ought to be burned and _he looks gorgeous_. Yuuri’s beautiful brown eyes are shining and seize his entire being.

“Be my coach, Victoooor!” 

His heart leaps to his throat and his breath hitches and there’s a stream of words and pleas that he wants to say _now_ before the moment and Yuuri vanish and-

It abruptly crashes on him as if he is suddenly drenched in ice-cold water. Like that, the spell is broken.

The words on Victor’s tongue feel heavy like lead and he stands helplessly as Yuuri is suddenly pulled away from him. He remains frozen in his spot as Yuuri’s coach props the drunk man against his shoulder and hip and offers him a sheepish apology before hurriedly leaving.

The warm bubbly feeling in his stomach warps into nausea and cold terror. He barely registers Chris and Yuri guiding him to a nearby isolated table.

_“Jesus Christ, he looks so pale, like he’s about to hurl. Thank god, that pig managed to scare most of the sponsors away before they see him like this.”_

_“Well, he was moving quite a lot. Maybe…all the alcohol isn’t agreeing with him? I’ll get some water.”_

Chris and Yuri’s voices sound muffled but Victor stares at the floor, uncaring of it all.

The world starts to roar in his ears to an almost deafening level and suddenly, he’s nine again on the kitchen floor, next to his mother. He sees his mother staring back at him with glassy eyes, and suddenly, he’s in her place. 

His lover is dead and he’s cold and alone and the curse takes him away without a word.

He squeezes his eyes shut and swallows down the scream trying to escape from his throat, taking deep breaths. 

He’s stronger than this. He has to be.

It's okay, it's okay. He already took measures to protect himself anyway. His heart calms.

“Oi, Victor, are you…are you okay?” Yuri asks uncertainly. 

Victor slowly lifts his head up to meet Yuri’s gaze. The teenager looks scared, unsure of what to do. More for the younger one’s sake than his own, Victor pushes down his feeling of nausea and gives him a reassuring smile. “Yes, just a bit light-headed.”

When Yuri still remains unconvinced, Victor playfully jabs at him instead. “Well, it was a challenge to keep up with Yuuri. He has quite the stamina~.”

Yuri gives him a disgusted look and Victor decides to drive it home with a sweet yet _savage_ smile. “Wow, I guess it’s no wonder you weren’t able to beat him, huh?”

“Please, I beat that pig where it counts so you can shut up! I’m not the one who looks like he’s about to hurl! God, you’re getting senile, aren’t you?”

Luckily, Chris comes back before Victor has to sit through Yuri’s scathing verbal attack. He sips the offered water gratefully and deflects away Chris’s inquiries about his being. Chris looks even more unconvinced than Yuri did and gives him a look that definitely means he’ll be asking about it later.

Victor can’t sleep that night, afraid of what he might see in his dreams if he does. His sleeping draught remains untouched on the table. He pointedly ignores his camera roll and scrolls aimlessly through Instagram when he receives a message.

**[14:23, Chris G.]**  
_what is all this hmm???_  
_i see u liking my pics on instagram ;)_

**[14:24, Victor N.]**  
_Caught red-handed~ :)_

Victor burns two hours, exchanging various pet selfies with Chris and complaining about their training regimes. When fatigue finally starts taking over, Victor is prepared to say good night.

**[16:37, Victor N.]**  
_Mmm, I’d be up for Berlin again too but Yakov might chop off my head if I ditch practice like that again~  
Btw, I think I’m going to call it a night now. I’m pretty tired now._

**[16:38, Chris G.]**  
_ah, okay_  
_hmm…one last thing_  
_just saying, i heard cao bin is retiring at the end of this season_  
_that means we are the oldest next season_  
_so we need to stick together okay?_  
_know that if you ever want to talk about anything, im here._

**[16:45, Victor N.]**  
_Alright, I’ll keep that in mind, thank you, Chris. <3 Good night!_

Victor resolutely goes to sleep, determined to put the banquet—and Yuuri Katsuki—in the past.

\--

“This is stupid and you’re a shit coach!”

Victor bitterly agrees and narrowly avoids the water bottle thrown at his head. Still, he plasters on what he hopes is a reassuring smile—though, it’s been a few weeks and four hours and he’s _really_ tired.

Coaching is much harder than Victor thought and he is starting to regret making that promise he made with Yuri years ago. He wonders if Yuri feels the same as well.

Yuri slams his fist on the rink edge. “I’m nailing all the step sequences AND the jumps, but you’re still not satisfied?” 

No.

“Oh, but Yura, you’re missing the _point_ of the program,” Victor says. “This is a program about agape…unconditional love, humble and pure sacrificial love. Your greed is too obvious. You’re too confident.”

“Then,” Yuri grits his teeth. “Tell me what the fuck I am missing then.”

“You’re missing that certain ‘umf’ like… _agape_.”

“Quit giving me abstract bullshit and tell me what to do!”

Perhaps, out of pity, Yakov steps in and gives them both a lecture—Yuri about his sloppy free leg and Victor about his shitty support skills. Yuri huffs angrily and stomps over to the locker room, calling it a day.

“You have a long way to go as a coach, Vitya.” Yakov shakes his head. “I think Yuri requires some additional training—he hasn’t done anything like this before.”

Victor quirks an eyebrow. “I thought you and Lilia don’t talk anymore?”

Yakov winces. “We do not but she is always willing to take students with potential. Yuri should be old enough now. She agreed to meet with us next week, after the Worlds.”

Remembering the hellish time he spent on the barre years ago, Victor internally shudders but nods.

He waits for both Yakov and Yuri to leave the rink before returning to the center of the ice. With the strum of the guitar, he juts his hip out and a familiar feeling like warm bubbly champagne blooms in his stomach as he raises his arms over his head.

This was the real short program that he had intended to use before he decided to work with Yakov as a co-coach for Yuri for the year.

His breath hitches in anticipation.

There it is again. That mysterious nudge that tugs him onto the dance floor.

Again, Victor chases after it and lets the music guide him. He closes his eyes and he is again sauntering across the dance floor in a step sequence. He toes and continues dancing on the ice, letting go just as he did before. He raises his arms and claps like a flamenco dancer, keeping in beat with the music. With a flourish of his arms, he lets the sound of guitar wash over him as hot passion continues to build in his gut. The feeling never settles, spiking with every spin and jump, and he is breathless when he finishes.

Victor sighs. Developing this program was suspiciously way too easy. Starting with him instinctively taking a detour to a nearby cafe during Makkachin’s walk and overhearing “In Regards to Love: Eros” for the first time to having the _strangest urge_ to sign up for flamenco classes and actually following that urge (for three weeks) after he tried to walk past the studio only to have a swept up flyer for the class smack him in the face, he realizes that even though he did want to forget about the banquet, his magic did not.

Never before has his magic pushed him this much to create this particular routine. It took him less than a week to put it together. Even though he put this program to the side to focus on Yuri’s, he finds himself coming back to it, performing it and taking what feels like sips of a guilty pleasure. Victor is a bit concerned but this is a routine that he’ll probably never use anyway so he doesn’t think too much on it.

He shakes off the vision of shining brown eyes and leaves the rink, carefully locking the banquet memories away in this program.

\--

Against his better judgment, Victor clicks on the link that thousands have been retweeting at him all day.

_Yuuri Katsuki Tries to Skate Victor Nikiforov’s FS Program [Stay Close to Me]_

It’s different. 

Victor intended _Stammi Vicino_ to be the centerpiece of his theme—longing. He performed this program so many times with varying emotions of bitterness, wistfulness, and as of more recently, emptiness. It became a way for him to vent out his frustrations and hopes in his own life, as he started to realize how old he was getting and what he couldn’t have. 

Despite the potato quality and the lack of music, it is clear that Yuuri changed the overall tone of the program. It’s hopeful and earnest. It’s as if Yuuri was offering an answer, one of reassurance and love, to Victor’s own lonely performance. It feels intimate.

He watches the video once.

Then, twice.

Then, a third time.

He stares at Yuuri’s content face on his phone screen for longer than he should have before forcing himself to close the video and turn off his phone.

“…Hey, let’s go for a walk, Makkachin!”

Victor makes it a point to leave his phone at home to stop himself from doing something stupid.

\--

Lilia Baranovskaya isn’t impressed.

“Physically, he’s abysmal. We can work on that but why should I work with a student who doesn’t even take practice seriously? You insult me.”

“Old hag, you’re looking at the person who just swept gold at the Junior Worlds. It was _easy_!”

After much pleading from Yakov and yelling from Yuri, Lilia makes a decision.

“I can’t stand your arrogant attitude. You’re not worthy of being my student right now,” Lilia states. “But, you have potential. I’ll call an old colleague. Work with her first. If you impress her, I’ll reconsider.”

Yuri balks but Victor squeezes his shoulder before the teenager can tell Lilia to go to hell.

“Who and how long?” Yakov asks.

“Minako Okukawa, and that depends on Yuri,” Lilia says curtly.

One phone call and a week later, Yakov presses a pair of plane tickets into Victor and Yuri’s hands with a stern lecture for both of them not to fool around and waste their time when they’re away. A few days later, Victor, with Yuri and Makkachin in tow, stands in front of a humble yet well-maintained onsen and resort. 

As he enters, Victor notes the wards and charms placed with care around the lobby. Almost immediately, there is a strange but not unwelcomed sense of calmness that washes over him, putting his body at ease. 

He hasn’t felt something like this in a place other than his apartment, where he had also set up charms. 

Interesting. 

He checks in for himself and Yuri and follows a bored looking woman who gives him a long weird scrutinizing look before guiding them to their room. Yuri immediately dumps his luggage in a corner and darts out of the room, eager to explore and “get away from all the gross old people.” However, Victor is exhausted after the long plane ride and finds himself more inclined to try the hot springs instead. 

“I would love to try the Japanese onsen!” Victor gives the woman a beatific smile. 

“Oh…I’ll let my mom know then,” the woman says. 

“Thank you, eh…” He can’t read the characters on her nametag.

“Mari, Katsuki Mari.” Again, she scrutinizes him with a look that he can’t comprehend.

“O-oh, thank you, Mari.” Victor relaxes. For all he knows, ‘Katsuki’ could just be an odd common last name here. Probably. Yes, that’s all there is to it. He’s not here to think about…that anyway.

He receives a bucket of shower supplies and a freshly dried set of robes from a gracious portly woman who points him to the baths. He smiles gratefully when she enthusiastically allows Makkachin to hang around the lobby as he bathes.

Victor sits in a stall and begins to wash his body. He massages shampoo into his scalp, glad that he can finally take the time to unwind. There’s a certain element of anonymity that he (and probably Yuri as well) appreciates here—Hasetsu is so remote that no one really bats an eyelash at him and he can stroll around the town relatively unrecognized.

There’s something about the name, “Hasetsu”, that is vaguely familiar though. He shrugs and figures he’d probably briefly saw it on a map once the last time he was in Japan.

Victor towels his body and steps into the hot springs. He sighs in bliss at the hot water already uncoiling his muscles. The sound of the constant rush of water and steam wafting from the springs creates an illusion of solitude. It really is peaceful here.

Hopefully, this change of scenery will help Yuri. He saw a temple on the way when they were walking over here. Maybe, a visit there can calm Yuri’s mind to fit his program more. They only have three weeks to impress Minako Okukawa and change Lilia’s mind after all. Victor hopes that he himself will make a good impression as well. The world is already expecting so much after his announcement of taking the next season off to coach Yuri with Yakov.

What is he going to do?

He swirls the water gently with an index finger and focuses on letting the tension bleed out from his back and legs. When he feels more or less rejuvenated after a couple more minutes, he takes the small towel off of his head.

As he stands up, he barely notices the muffled sound of frantic and heavy footsteps until the glass sliding door slams open, jolting him out of his reverie.

Almost in slow motion, out the door bursts Yuuri Katsuki.

…Victor guesses that Katsuki isn’t a common last name at all.

Yuuri stares at him in shock, mouth agape, then beats him to his own question. “V-victor…why are you here?”

_To be your coach, to be with you, to stay close to you-_

He internally clamps down his heart before he says any of those things.

Luckily, Victor is trained to recover quickly in the face of other people and puts on his most charming smile before he combusts from error. He can do this. “To relax after this season, of course. Pleasure meeting you again, Yuuri~”

When Yuuri goes red and turns his face away with nervous spluttering, Victor is confused. He didn’t come off too strong, did he? Yuuri doesn’t seem like the type who would be bothered by nakedness either…given his previous shenanigans.

Then, Yuuri lets out a nervous laugh and stutters an apology before leaving just as quickly and suddenly as he came.

Victor is even more confused. He rubs his temples and sighs.

He pretends that he wasn’t disappointed at all with the sight of Yuuri fleeing away from him like the plague.

He pretends even more that he doesn’t hear how loudly his heart is racing.

**Author's Note:**

> So, it starts. Thank you for taking the time to read my fic! I'm excited about this one since it's been a while since I've last written a fanfic and I actually have some idea of how to structure and end this. I'm only planning to use a few elements from Practical Magic (Amas Veritas being the main one), so you don't have to worry about Yuri suddenly showing up with a dead boyfriend on Victor's doorstep like "help me revive this thing". This is also my excuse to write a fic where pining Victor actually has some semblance of impulse control and doesn't follow Yuuri to Japan...cuz, you know, if he didn't, he'd literally die. Which is the only way I can possibly see him _not_ dropping everything and following his thirsty heart to Japan.
> 
> You'll probably also notice that some canon events have been tweaked or switched around because this little event or that didn't happen or changed—which is something that I'm going to look forward to fleshing out. 
> 
> Also sorry that the first chapter's tone seems a little depressing at times—I promise that will change with the later chapters to be happier (until the angst hits, of course) ^^.


End file.
